


Home Is Where The Dog Is

by dinolaur



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Gen, Puppies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 10:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3646095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinolaur/pseuds/dinolaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People are always bringing strays into Sam's house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s sort of an accident that Bucky is at the subway station alone. Usually one of the others ends up tagging along with him. Finding alone time has been close to impossible ever since he showed up at Steve’s door a few months back. No one has actually said anything, but it feels a lot like babysitting. It feels like “last time you were in town lots of people died, Nazis almost took over the world, and half of D.C. was on fire.” It feels like “you’ve spent the last seventy years as a brainwashed assassin, and what if something makes you snap back to that.”

Really, Bucky knows it’s just Steve. It’s just Steve loving him so much and being so wrecked when he died and came back the way he did and being terrified to lose him again even for a minute. It’s Steve wanting to give him time and space to figure himself out but not really knowing what to do because there isn’t really a precedent for this. Bucky knows, because he remembers how worried he used to be about Steve getting into back alley fights and secret government experiments and special ops missions. Bucky was all that Steve used to have. Steve was all that Bucky had once too. He understands.

Doesn’t make him any less grumpy about being babysat.

He told Steve that he was going to go out to get some coffee. There is a shop just down the street from the loft that they usually go to on the way home from morning jogs, to which Steve had probably assumed Bucky would go. To be fair, Bucky had been going that way, but then he passed it up. There is another one—Natalia likes to bring him—connected to a bookstore. The kindle app on his phone is nice, but Bucky still likes the feel of old books. He likes curling back the covers and folding down pages and scribbling notes. Somehow, despite probably never having tied a tie straight in his life and always managing to find the most unflattering fitting jackets in the world, Steve always kept his art supplies very neat and constantly complained that he would never loan a book to Bucky again because he was so hard on them.  

So Bucky walked down to the shop, ordered the blackest coffee they make, and wandered through the rows of books. He found one on a very basic history of everyday engineering and returned for a refill before settling into an empty chair. He read for longer than he should, a little voice nagging in the back of his mind that Steve was probably wondering why he wasn’t back yet, probably panicking but trying to give Bucky some space and show good faith. Sam or Natalia might have confiscated his phone. He should go back.

It is a fair distance back to the loft. Bucky could easily walk, but he heads down to the subway. Normally he doesn’t like to ride it, doesn’t like the crowds anymore. It’s ok when he has one of the others but alone it’s too noisy, and he doesn’t like strangers being so close to him. But Sam thinks it’s good for him, and Bucky knows he is right. He needs to get used to living like a normal person again.

So he sits down on a bench to wait, and that is when he notices the dog.

She—Bucky leans down just a bit, and yeah, she—is a golden retriever. That is just about the only breed of dog that Bucky really knows. His family hadn’t had any money to spare for a pet growing up, and his and Steve’s old landlord was allergic and forbade pets in her building. He doesn’t have any experience with them, but he knows enough that she is a pretty looking dog. Or at least she would be with a good bath. Her fur is kind of matted in a few places and dirty.

Bucky is surprised to see her just sitting there without a person. She has a collar, which means she belongs to someone somewhere. Bucky thinks it’s a little shitty that they left her right there while doing whatever they are off doing, but he figures they will probably be right back.

Five minutes later his train arrives, and the dog is still there. Bucky doesn’t move from the bench.

Thirty minutes later his phone chimes in his pocket. Bucky stands up but doesn’t check it. He walks slowly over to the dog, who watches his approach intently. He tries not to look threatening, because she is just a little thing. But he isn’t really sure how to go about that, especially not with an animal, so he just hunches his shoulders up and tries to smile. He gets close enough that she starts to look wary, and Bucky stops. He drops down slowly and almost holds out his left arm. He stops and holds up his right hand instead. If he wants her to trust him, he should trust her.

It’s dumb, because this is just a dog, and he doubts she understands the subtleties of that, but it still seems like the right way to handle this.

Her nostrils twitch just a bit as she sniffs. It takes a moment, but she starts to lean closer, shuffling slowly and carefully until finally touching her wet nose to his palm. When she licks lightly at him, he takes that as a sign that she is ok with him moving closer. He pets her head lightly—her tail wags cutely, he thinks despite himself—and twists her collar to read the tag. It only has her name. “Becca,” Bucky reads, and he remembers a little girl with pigtails who he would sometimes buy cotton candy for on summer afternoons.

She was so proud that time she rode the Cyclone with them and didn’t throw up but Steve did.

The dog whines a little bit, and Bucky asks, “Somebody missing you?” Becca whines again, and Bucky says, “We’ll find them.” He feels a bit strange vocally reassuring a dog about anything. She doesn’t understand, not really. She at least gets his tone though, he thinks, because she licks his face. It’s wet and smells, but Bucky doesn’t mind.

He stands, his hand looped loosely around her collar. Taking her to an animal shelter is probably the thing to do here. She might have a tracking chip, since her tag is basically useless. He has no idea where the nearest shelter is, so he takes out his phone, ignoring the text—from Sam’s phone but Bucky has no doubts it was actually Steve who sent it—and pulling up google. He has an address when he notices Becca pawing at a suitcase.

Bucky blinks down at it. He hadn’t paid it much attention before, focused more on the dog herself, but it is strange. It isn’t new and not in the best condition, but it certainly isn’t trash. He doesn’t really have any alarm bells going off—a notion furthered by the fact that Becca has hit it a few times with her paw and is now attempting to lean down and nose her way into it—but there is something concerning about it. The dog isn’t excited about it, as her tail isn’t wagging, but she seems almost anxious.

Bucky nudges the suitcase with his boot, scooting it back against the wall. Becca whines again and follows. Whatever this is, she is attached to it and would probably put up a fuss leaving it behind. So Bucky kneels down and opens it.

Inside are a leash, a bowl, and two ragged stuffed toys. Even with no real expectations, the contents aren’t what Bucky was anticipating. Becca makes another whine and stuffs her nose into the suitcase. She pushes the contents around for a moment, makes two circles, and lays down, her head resting against one of the toys. She blinks big brown eyes up at him and lets out a mournful little huff.

With sudden clarity, Bucky understands.

``

The nurse—Bucky isn’t sure if they are still called nurses when they work at a vet clinic, but close enough—brings them into one of the back rooms immediately when Bucky tells her that he found Becca abandoned in the subway. Becca doesn’t like the room, and Bucky can’t fault her at all on that one. She makes an absolutely pitiful noise and hides herself shaking behind Bucky’s legs. The nurse tries to coax her out, but Becca just lays down lower. She is so underfoot, Bucky almost trips trying to maneuver himself to kneel by her.

He pats the top of her head and looks up questioningly at the nurse. “Poor thing’s scared stiff,” she says. “She looks like she trusts you though, so here, try these.” She hands him a few treats, and it’s a slow process, but eventually they get Becca up to the examination table. The nurse and the vet, who comes in a moment later and scares Becca right back into Bucky’s personal space, check her completely over.

“She seems perfectly healthy,” the vet says, frowning. “You just found her in a subway station?”

Bucky nods.

The vet exchanges a disappointed look with the nurse. “Definitely abandoned,” she says. She scribbles something on her clipboard. “A real shame too. She’s a pretty girl.”

“She is,” Bucky says, scratching behind her ear. “So why would someone leave her?”

“My guess,” the vet answers, “she looks pure bred, and I’d say she’s full grown, but she’s small. Probably the runt of her liter, and if her owners were intending to use her for breeding, she’s worthless.”

Bucky has never been a huge animal rights activist. Sure, like anyone decent, he wouldn’t be okay with someone kicking a bunny, but something about that just makes his blood boil.

The vet continues, “But it’s good that you got her to us. We can at least control what shelter she goes to, try to get her somewhere without a kill policy.”

Bucky frowns. Becca is shaking into his side, and her wet nose is pressed up against his neck. She is scared and completely alone in the world. They can try to get her somewhere with no risk of being put down, but that isn’t a guarantee, nor does she have one of being adopted quickly. And Bucky knows that it’s the entire purpose of the thing, but he suddenly thinks of those animal shelter commercials—the one with all the sad puppies and kittens and the lady singing, the one that makes everyone boo and hiss and even Natalia throws whatever she’s eating at the screen—and he makes a decision.

“I’ll take her,” he declares.

``

The pet store is sort of overwhelming for them both. Bucky stands just inside the entrance, looking back and forth from the many aisles to the list of essentials the nurse at the clinic wrote out for him. Becca is on a throw-away leash, gripped tight in his left hand so she has no chance of making an escape attempt, running around and trying to get a look at everything in reach. She ends up trapping Bucky’s legs in the leash and doesn’t make it at all easy for him to get out.

Getting her a new leash, collar, and tag is simple enough, as is water and food bowls and the food recommended by the vet. Then they go look at crates, which is a little harder. The vet said a lot of dogs like their crates, as it can be a safe spot when they feel overwhelmed. And Bucky gets that, because he still has days where he feels like he needs to get back to his room and be alone or he’ll lose it. But the deal is finding one that isn’t too big or too small, and he doesn’t want her to have one that just looks like a cage.

She needs poop bags for walks, a brush, doggy shampoo, carpet cleaner—she hasn’t had any accidents yet, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared—and he takes a flyer for an obedience training class.

Then they turn into the toy aisle, and Bucky has no fucking idea what to do. Becca too is at a loss. She just sits at his feet and whines helplessly. “Need a hand,” a young man in a blue polo asks.

“Yeah,” Bucky answers. “This is all—“ He trails off, making a face at the endless shelves of brightly colored toys.

“A lot, I know,” the kid says. “I guess you’re a first time owner?” Bucky nods again. “Well, she’s a really pretty girl.” The kid holds out a hand patiently and lets Becca slowly observe him and decide that he is ok. “Well, I usually let my dog pick out his own toys. Just walk her up and down the aisle, and then give her some slack. She’ll pick a few things out, and when you get home you can see which of them she actually ends up liking. Then just buy her stuff based on that.”

They end up with tennis balls, a few ropes, a stuffed bear, and a duck that squeaks. They get to the treat aisle after that, and the kid points to various bags. “You’re going to want something like this—again, my dogs have all preferred this brand—to keep her teeth cleaned. These curl things are a pretty good snack too. I’d stay away from rawhide bones. Really, it’s probably not a big deal—dogs have had rawhide bones forever, right?—but those cleaners let them get chewing in just as good, and no chance they’re going to swallow down a sharp chunk,” the kid rambles on. “As for treats, it’s good to have a bag of them while you’re training her. But what kind is kind of touch and go. Just depends on which ones she ends up liking.”

They leave the store a couple of hundred dollars lighter, and his phone buzzes in his back pocket. “Time to go home, girl,” Bucky says. “Watch your new Uncle Steve shit a brick.”

``

A key fits into the lock on the front door and turns. Steve starts to jump up from the couch, but Sam grabs his shoulder and pushes him back down. Natasha doesn’t look up from the nest of pillows still on the floor from Clint’s visit last weekend. “Be cool about this,” Sam hisses at Steve, and Steve knows he is right, that it is important for him to let Bucky have his own time to himself, that he should not be hovering and acting like he doesn’t trust him. But it’s been hours since Bucky left to get coffee, and he hasn’t been answering his phone, and Steve has mentally prepared a really fantastic worried-parent lecture.

The door opens and shuts, and Bucky enters the room with significantly more commotion than usual. Steve opens his mouth, ready to say something—he can feel Sam moving to counter him—but they both stop short. Bucky stands in the doorway, one arm full of bags from PetCo and the other hand resting on top of a smiling golden retriever’s head.

“I have a dog now,” Bucky says plainly.

Sam and Steve gape, and Natasha slowly lowers her magazine. Bucky glares back, daring any of them to contradict him. The dog’s tongue hangs from the side of her mouth, and she leans her head back into Bucky’s thigh. He scratches behind her ears vigorously, and her tail thumps loudly on the floor. Steve’s heart melts at the sight, even as his brain tries to make sense of it.

“We are not approved for a pet on the lease,” Natasha comments.

“We aren’t approved to be international spies and superheroes who sometimes bring the really violent and property damaging aspects of our work home with us either,” Sam says. He points firmly at Steve, who balks because he is not the one who randomly brought home a dog. “If the landlord finds out, you are the one responsible for us not losing the security deposit. Ain’t nobody gonna tell Captain America he can’t have a dog.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a couple of lines of google translated Russian towards the bottom. I have no idea if it's translated well, so to any speakers who may read this, I apologize for any parts that are wrong. But I just really, really like the idea of Bucky and Natasha speaking to each other in Russian a lot, especially in serious moments for them.

Becca grows on the others fast. Steve is a big pushover and tries feeding her scraps from his plate on the first night. “No,” Bucky says, his nose buried in a training book. “That’s not a good habit.”

“But look at her face,” Steve whines. “She’s doing the thing with her eyes that you do. I could make a comment here about how you’re an ass when you do it, but let’s be honest, I fall for it every time.”

Sam reaches over and smacks the back of Steve’s hand. “No, bad,” he orders.

The evening is spent playing and showing Becca all the rooms in the loft. Then it’s late, and Bucky isn’t necessarily tired, but he is still trying to stick to schedules. He has made a lot of improvements, has more good days than he does bad ones, but he still needs the control of his own schedule.

So he takes the crate into his room and sets it up. Becca knows what it is and doesn’t seem scared of it, although she does take a few long minutes to sniff every inch of it. Bucky arranges a blanket for her and leaves her with a chew and the stuffed bear. She circles twice and settles in easily. Bucky scratches behind her ears, glad that this wasn’t a difficult process.

When Bucky wakes up in the middle of the night, his hair is wet with sweat, he can’t breathe, and his arm hurts in a way that it can’t actually process anymore. He blinks, trying to adjust from the blinding, clinical lights in his dream to the soft darkness of his bedroom. There is some strange sound, and it takes a minute for him to realize that it’s Becca crying in her crate.

Bucky scrambles up from the bed, getting tangled in the sheets for a second. “It’s ok, girl,” he says, and he is so dumb. He shouldn’t have put her in there. She was abandoned by her first owners in a subway, and he has dragged her from the vet to the store to a completely new house full of new people and then attempted to cage her up for the night. He should know better.

His hand shakes as he tries to get the door open. He keeps fumbling, so with a growled curse, he uses his left hand. Becca pushes out of the crate and into his personal space. She cuddles right up against him, laying her head over his shoulder. “It’s ok,” Bucky says, arms going around her. “You’re ok.”

“I don’t think she’s worried about that,” Sam says, and Bucky looks around Becca to see him poking his head through the door. Sam gives him a thoughtful glance. “You had a nightmare?”

Bucky nods. They all do. There is no reason to deny it. They might try, but Sam gets irritated when they don’t admit to things and try to work on them.

“Haven’t heard a peep from her all night,” Sam says. “She only just started whining.” He smiles. “That’s a smart dog. Knew her buddy was upset and just wanted to make him feel better.”

Bucky hadn’t intended on letting Becca sleep in his bed with him, especially not when he got the crate, but when he crawls back under his covers, she goes with him, curled over his back and head resting on his shoulder, and she never leaves.

``

The first week there is a bizarre fight in the loft about who buys a doggie bed for Becca. Steve brings home a bed that has his shield stamped all over it. “This is crazy,” he says, beaming. “I get the t-shirts and phone cases and toys, but a dog bed? I had to buy it.”

“You can’t get her a bed,” Sam protests. “I got her a bed.” And he goes into his room to drag out a large bag Bucky had seen him bring in earlier when he came home from his errand run. Sam’s is camo, and he says, “Look, I even found her a little falcon toy for when she’s cuddled up in here.”

“That’s not a falcon,” Steve points out.

“Shut up,” Sam retorts. “She’s using this bed.”

They are still bickering an hour later when Natasha comes back. As Steve and Sam are currently yelling about the softness of fleece, she turns to Bucky for an answer. “They both got Becca a bed and are very maturely trying to decide which one she should use,” Bucky says with a roll of his eyes. He offers Natasha a dry smile, ready to have her return it and come make fun of the other two with him.

But she doesn’t. Her eyes blaze, and she says loudly, “Excuse you, but I have already taken care of this.” She shoves her phone under their noses, and Steve starts blubbering that Etsy is cheating.

“It’s personalized,” Natasha says haughtily.

“Homemade, reclaimed wood, golden oak finish, plush down cushion,” Sam reads off incredulously. “Three hundred and fifty dollars? Three hundred and fifty dollars! You didn’t spend this much on all our Christmas presents combined.”

Natasha shrugs, snatching back her phone. “Obviously, my bed will be the superior one.”

“More expensive doesn’t mean better,” Steve argues, and they get into it all over again.

“You are going to be one spoiled puppy,” Bucky comments to Becca, who makes a happy groan in thanks of her gift of belly rubs.

Sam, Natasha, and Steve make snarky comments all week about the dog beds, but in the end all three are set up throughout the loft, and Becca uses them all with no discrimination.

``

Their phones quickly fill up with pictures of Becca, but the first one that makes it out on the internet is of her sprawled on the couch, stretching completely over Steve, Bucky, and Sam’s laps. Natasha posts it to her Instagram, and three hours later someone starts banging on the door.

Steve answers it, and Clint storms in with a declaration of, “I am so disappointed in you, young lady.” He levels Natasha with one of his least intimidating glares. Or, it might just be less impressive because his hand is wrapped around a leash that is connected to a large yellow lab with the biggest, dopiest grin on his face.

The lab sees Becca and pulls against the leash to try to go up to her. Becca, who had pulled herself up off Bucky’s lap at the knocking on the door, whines excitedly and shuffles her paws. She keeps almost jumping up but manages to barely stay put, although that might mostly be because Bucky grabs hold of her collar.

“You got a dog and didn’t tell me,” Clint continues accusatorily. “You’re supposed to tell me everything. Do you know how many puppy play dates they could have gone on?”

“She’s only been here eight days,” Natasha says.

“Eight puppy play dates,” Clint cries. He reaches down and hoists his dog up to stand on its back paws. “We are very disappointed in you,” he stresses, but again the effect is lessened by Lucky’s happy grin and wagging tail.

They take the dogs to the park, because as soon as Bucky releases Becca’s collar to let them meet, the two immediately want to run around and wrestle, and Sam will lose his mind if they knock over his grandmother’s vase.

They run and chase and roll in the grass and expect their people to throw a ball for so long that eventually only Steve and Bucky can still do it. And when they get home, after drinking almost three bowls of water, they cram themselves into the living room bed and fall asleep. Clint and Natasha race to be the first to get it up on Instagram.

``

Bucky knows that people have a tendency to refer to their pets as though they were actually their children. He has many times seen Clint running around with his dog in Central Park and hollering, “Pizza Dog, come see Daddy,” resulting in Lucky barreling towards him and usually tackling him.

Bucky knew that people did it, but he never really got it. But after he brings home Becca it doesn’t take him long to start it up. And she knows, no matter who says it, that Dad means Bucky. Everyone gets their own little nickname with her. Steve is Uncle Steve—simple and easy, although she also knows what Bucky means when he tells her to go find the Punk—and Sam is, of course, The Falcon.

(“Wait, how come I don’t get to be an uncle,” Sam had protested.

“Oh please,” Steve scoffed. “You introduce yourself to people as Sam ‘The Falcon’ Wilson. Not just people you’re flirting with. To children, reporters, cab drivers, military officials. You did it to the President of the United States, Sam.”)

Bucky manages to secretly get Becca to acknowledge Natalia as Mom.

The first time he gets to use it is at the coffee shop. They have their cups and a book from the shelves, and the day is temperate and cloudless, so they decide to sit outside. Bucky loops Becca’s leash to his chair, and they settle in. Natalia reads the novel aloud in Russian, which shouldn’t be humorous, but they both get a kick out of other patrons and passersby offering them confused looks.

The wind picks up and blows Natalia’s napkin to the ground. Becca catches it and holds it up proudly to Bucky. “Дайте его мама,” he says. Becca turns to Natalia, pushing her head in her lap and dropping the napkin.

Natalia scratches absently behind Becca’s ears and studies Bucky with a guarded expression. They haven’t talked about it yet. Bucky knows that Natalia remembers it all—they never took her memories from her, not like they did his—and she knows that he has more and more pieces to the puzzle every day. They have only acknowledged it silently, just an awareness that they knew each other in the Red Room.

She waits for him to speak. He is the one who brought it up, but he doesn’t really have the words to say what he needs to. Even before the war he wasn’t good at this. He could flirt and charm, but none of the girls he had gone with stirred anything in him like Natalia had. His most meaningful relationship has always been with Steve, and they usually resort to name calling and hugs that involve a lot of slapping each other on the back to avoid having to vocalize just how much they mean to each other.

Natalia was the one ray of light in the whole thing. When she was younger, still just a Widow recruit, when he was a test to see how the girls would progress to their next level of training, he had been impressed with her. Then she grew up, and the handlers gave them just enough slack to sneak to each other in the night, and she became everything. She was something to focus on in the haze of foggy memories and blood. She talked to him like he was more than a weapon, touched him.

Then they were found out. They took him away, erased him, didn’t even give him the dignity of mourning what he lost. He had seen her since they were discovered. He hadn’t known her and treated her like he treated everything else that got in the way of completing a mission. He shot her.

“I don’t think I’m in a place for anything right now,” he eventually says, “but I’ve missed you without even knowing you. I loved you then, and I still do now. I don’t—there’s not really anything I could offer you right now, if you’d even have me.”

Natalia arches a brow. “You did shoot me,” she says. “Twice.”

Bucky grins. “So I guess that groveling apology should have been paired with wine, chocolate, and roses?”

“I have no desire for roses,” she scoffs. Then she smiles back at him. “They broke my heart when they took you from me,” she says lowly. “I have never let myself be vulnerable like that with another person since, and I don’t think I could again. With anyone else.”

She takes his hand, not even giving him time to feel disappointed. “We both need time right now,” she says. “Но когда вы будете готовы, я буду здесь.”

“То же,” he agrees.

(Steve only freaks out a little bit—Clint flails around for a solid three minutes—when they start being open about their relationship, and Becca gets really excited when Mom finally moves into Dad’s room.)


End file.
